Cocas, Cold Weather and Autumn Life

Already faded from the memory of many, what in former times had been a delicious childhood treat, the almond coca, disappeared completely years ago, a victim of our indifferent palates, accustomed to imported flavours foreign to everything genuinely belonging to the island. For this reason, we shall not venture to establish the time of year when it was customary to knead and bake it, after decorating it with almonds placed upright, inexplicably with their shells still on.

Apart from this variety, and following the rhythm marked by the different seasons of the year, the round coca, which continually makes its way onto the Menorcan table as a satisfying solution for children's afternoon snacks and frugal suppers accompanied by coffee with milk, lends itself to the most varied and surprising toppings, from the sweetest flavours to the most savoury, with peppers or generously seasoned with garlic.

Thus, when Sant Joan arrives, apricot cocas make their appearance, followed by plum cocas, also sprinkled with sugar, which at that time of year are eaten beside the sea at dusk. Later, amid the summer abundance of vegetables, comes the delicious pepper coca, together with those made with sofrito and tomatoes.

Now, when the produce from the vegetable garden has come to an end, the characteristic wooden tubs in grocery shops are filled with salted preserves that make it possible to prepare the tasty coca with salted sardines, so eagerly sought after in the family pantry.

And while those characteristic containers are full of sardines, the salted fish known as pinxes, the beams beneath the shop ceiling are no less abundant, with cured salt cod hanging from them, giving off a strong, penetrating smell. This providential product of the sea, especially valuable during this transitional season, makes it possible to replace the more modest little cocas or fritters of the household economy with the highly prized salt cod fritters.

We shall not yet say that the cold has awakened and leapt from its icy bed to wander through the streets, but during the nights and early mornings a dry breeze, rather more than cool, advises us to renew our friendship with our jackets and makes us bury our hands in our pockets during those short morning walks towards Es Mirador, on the way to work.

These cold breaths of air are the very ones that have swept away family gatherings outdoors, on the pavements, and have put an abrupt end to the traditional Sunday evening stroll through Plaça des Born, forcing it to move beneath the arcades of Ses Voltes.

Families no longer go outside to enjoy the cool evening air after supper, but instead gather in the small sitting room to listen as the radio plays programmes of dedicated records, while the father reads the newspaper and the mother darns stockings or does needlework.

It is then that we recall those truths expressed by Jerome K. Jerome in his novel Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog). In reality, the essential ingredients of genuine happiness in this world would consist of "a home; someone who loves you and someone to love; a dog; a cat; a book and a pipe".

The pipe gives off a sweet, thick smoke. The cat has curled up beside the fire, and the dog dozes in a light and innocent sleep at our feet.

Josep Al·lès Quintana, October 1951